Life is so good, so why do I feel so shit?

My life is pretty god damn good at the moment. I have an amazing family, my best friend by my side, amazing, incredible and caring friends and am on the pathway of achieving a career goal. So why do I feel like everything sucks and I don’t want to be here.

I know the answer deep down, and I have for some time now. This is my problem, I was raised by a narcissist who had a psychologist / psychiatrist for a mother so I can analyse and find root causes for problems I am just too afraid to act on them.

I am not happy with myself. No, I loathe myself.

I feel fat, frumpy, caught in the eternal battle of how I should look and feel compared to societies expectations. I grew up thin as a branch, I won’t say twig cause if you look at photos  I wasn’t that one look and I’ll snap frame but I was pretty slim. I modelled growing up, which I really enjoyed but thanks to low self esteem and friends who were more frenemies I didn’t really appreciate the experience. It was from here that my depiction of myself would start to become skewed.

My mother would always tell me what to wear, there was never any free choice, even to the point where my formal dress and pretty much my wedding dress were chosen because she manipulated me into it. So of course when I was modelling she thought it was great and that she could push me in that. Well it back fired one day.

I remember the words in a detached French accent ‘if you want to model internationally you’ll need to loose at least 5kgs‘. I was 50kgs. I was 5’ 9″ (176cms), an B cup, size 10 1/2 foot. How the hell did they expect for me to loose ‘at least 5kgs‘? I would have been anorexic. Oh did I mention I was 15?

I’m never surprised these days when I read about ex models (or current models) being forced onto a life of cotton ball diets, alcohol and pills and eating one apple a day. It is cut throat industry and back then it was all about how thin you could be. And while the industry is changing, it is happening too slowly. Anyway, I digress…

It was this moment that I decided, while I wasn’t completely sure, that I would stand up for my body and refused to loose any weight. I was fit, I was toned and I was healthy. I felt it was being untrue to myself to look a particular way for anyone, and it was the first time I could really say no. However when it went around school that I couldn’t go to Paris because I was too fat, boy did it make the frenemies happy and they never let me forget it. And since then I have always found myself vainly comparing myself to others. Right now I feel like the biggest fatty in the world and I know I am not but it’s how I feel.

I have no self confidence in how I look or how I feel. My self esteem is below the ground. It’s true that to love others you need to love yourself first, but I can’t do that. So I sit here, behind a computer (pretty gutless I know) trying to figure out what I can do. In my next post I’ll probably, I say probably because who knows where my mind will lead, look at why I am so afraid and why I feel so trapped…thank you very much anxiety and depression.


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